Bad Influence - popular girl x nerd boy

16- Rome

"I would absolutely kill him," Lucas lays back in his chair, crossing thick arms over his chest with an air of confidence. Divided by our desks, I gape at him.

"But he would be a baby!"

"Did I stutter? Kill the little monster." Now Lucas grins, finding my reaction to his infanticide humorous.

"I can't believe you!"

"It's literally Hitler! Murder doesn't apply to him. You wouldn't kill Hitler and actively prevent millions of deaths?" Like the mature, almost eighteen-year-olds we are, we are debating the morals of killing Adolf Hitler when he was a baby. Lucas has vehemently argued for the case of an execution, and I originally only pushed against the idea because it's what Lucas believes, but I slowly started to get passionate about fighting him. Lucas's blue eyes spark with amusement as we argue, and I can tell he likes the aggression that his disagreement is inciting in me.

"Listen, I understand that you love killing babies,"

"No no no-"

"But personally, I would nurture and raise the baby in a loving environment. I don't believe in murder, unlike someone." I flick my eyes over him in exaggerated distaste.

"It would not change anything. The only solution is killing him, obviously." He moves closer to the desk now, leaning against it and bringing us a foot closer. "This whole argument is stupid anyways, we both know you're never right when you disagree with me."

"Is that so?" My volume lowers and I soften my words, tilting my head as if I was considering his claim. I don't intend to flirt with him or make him flustered, but it's so hard when it's a skill that comes as easily as breathing does to me. And it doesn't help that his reaction to my flirting is a temptation too sweet to resist.

"I-I meant... um," he stutters and I bite back a smile.

Ears hidden beneath golden hair turn red and I decide that I have tortured him enough when Lucas can't hold eye contact anymore.

Fuck, he's so cute when he's speechless.

I wish I didn't think this way, instead finding validation in my intelligence or talent, but the way Lucas looks at me feels powerful. I can tell he finds me attractive, and that feeling gives me a high. I can also tell that he doesn't have a lot of experience with girls, making his innocence a sort of desire I've never felt before. In all previous relationships, I have only been with experienced boys who knew what they wanted and what they could do. The thought of a boy who fumbled with a bra clasp irks me. Still, his clueless stutters are a trap I'm very close to falling into.

Unfortunately, I'm reminded that we are not the only people in the room.

"I'm glad you guys are finally getting along," Mrs. Whalen smiles — if you can even call it that, it more strongly resembles a grimace. "But this is class time and you need to be working."

I stare at her blankly while Lucas returns a warm smile.

While she walks away I let out a groan, earning a small chuckle from Lucas, and open my silver MacBook. Mrs. Whalen is right, however, we have been getting along. Conversations flow easily between us, filled with laughter and inside jokes. Surprisingly, we haven't fought since we first became partners for this project. Lucas often insults me and vice versa, but there's an air of friendliness that is so comfortable I forget that it wasn't there weeks ago.

"All we have learned in this class is that you are cynical and refuse to see the best in people," I remark while keeping my eyes on the electronic empty spaces of our assignment.

"And now we are aware of your inability to make difficult decisions because you are scared of how it will define you." He smirks like he is proud of himself. "Thank god for hypothetical questions."

Touché.

We work in silence, completing the last few sections of research for the project so that we can begin the slideshow.

"Done!" I cheer as I finish the last sentence in my section of the answers. "I finished before you, genius."

I'm not sure why I tease and pick fights with Lucas, but every time he takes the bait and mocks me back, I feel my smile grow a little wider.

"I would have finished faster if you weren't tapping on the desk the whole time." He rolls his eyes and takes his hands off of his keys, the final question left half answered.

I move my fingers off the desk and realize I have been knocking against the wood in sync with a song stuck in my head. I wince, having no idea how long I had been making noise or how loud I was being. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distract you."

"I'm kidding, I don't mind you doing whatever weird strategies you need in order to focus," He laughs but his words are sincere. Softly, he changes the subject, "What song was that?"

I tell him fondly, remembering the calming laps I made around the school track earlier today. "It's been stuck in my head since I went on a run this morning."

"You run?" He asks, surprised. "In the mornings, too?"

"I love running! Why does that shock you?"

"I have tried morning runs and they're not for me. I prefer to run at night, especially after shifts at work."

"Oh my god, morning runs are the best. It feels like racing the sun if you make it out there early enough. The clear head, strong wind, and the rising sun, it's the best feeling in the world."

"You've got another thing wrong," I stare at him, puzzled, before he continues, "My head is never clear when I run. It feels like my day moves so fast that the only time I have to process everything is late at night, alone in the dark."

"Stop, stop, stop! All you have had today has been bad opinions." He chuckles at my vocal disagreements, and I love that he doesn't have a problem with the way I talk. Despite his quiet persona and the fact that he hardly raises his volume above talking levels, he doesn't seem to be annoyed or disturbed by my frequent and loud outbursts. I often talk with a high volume and dramatic tone, and it doesn't offend him despite his use of the opposite. "Where do you work?"

"Borreli's, it's an Italian restaurant downtown." He says the name and a proud look flashes across his face.

I wonder what it's like to be so proud of yourself. To feel validated due to your own hard work.

"Perfect, I love Italian wine. I'll come and visit you at work one day and get the 'friends and family' discount?"

"Please don't," Lucas cringes. "I know I am very good-looking at school, but I doubt I look that way in my work uniform and apron." He says this with an edge of irony that I hesitate to respond at first. Does he not know how beautiful he is?

"A uniform? Now I have to go." I exaggerate checking out Lucas's body, scanning his features and holding my attention on him while he quickly turns pink under my gaze. To his credit, he doesn't fumble with his words this time or mumble a quick response, but he keeps his eyes glued to his computer for minutes after the interaction and the blush never leaves his face.

The bell rings through the loudspeakers near the roof and dismisses us from our desks.

I'm still giggling to myself, happy with the reaction I can spur from Lucas. He finally looks up from his computer and locks eyes with me. The dark blue pools of life nearly pull me in, and I feel my heart stop beating when I look at him. Somehow more composed than I am, Lucas gives me a friendly 'goodbye.'

"I'll see you around, Blondie."

A smile marks my face as I step out of the classroom. A goofy one, that reminds me of childish middle schoolers and innocent crushes. It's accompanied by a feeling that I have never felt before for Jason or any of my boyfriends, and it leaves me feeling lighter than air.